


Because, Despite What You Think, I Do

by orphan_account



Series: YOUTUBE RPF [8]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Derp Crew - Fandom, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angry Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Blood and Torture, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Collars, Consensual Underage Sex, Control Issues, Crying, Cutting, DMZ, Dehumanization, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gang Rape, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gore, Gorn, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hair-pulling, Hate Crimes, Hate Sex, Homophobic Language, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, Loss of Parent(s), Loud Sex, M/M, Major Character Injury, Master/Pet, Mental Instability, Miscarriage, Multi, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Underage Sex, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Repressed Memories, Sadism, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Torture, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Violence, erotic asphyxiation, petting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sequel-prequel to 'Don't Think I Don't Know'READ THAT /BEFORE/ READING THIS.IT ISN'T FINISHED, BUT THIS WON'T MAKE SENSE W/OUT READING THE LATEST CHAPTERS.ty





	1. Evan

Living with a single mom was more than difficult for Evan. Living in the inner city only made it worse. He had witnessed first hand his mother's multiple rapes, and done nothing to help her. He was too young.

When his mother was at work and Evan was too old to go with her, but not old enough to be by himself, she sent him off to a babysitter.

He was only seven, and the babysitter, a rough looking man with a name that escaped his memory, knew this very well. And yet, hands would brush against his young body like a whisper, gracing his edges and bare chest with massages. 

He never spoke of it, not knowing it was wrong, even when things escalated and the man was teaching him how to use his mouth, he stayed silent.

It continued until he was twelve, and his mother started sending him to school. He didn't know much, so he was behind, but, having a yearning to learn, shot forward.

He was bullied frequently, and found himself against a wall one day in tenth grade, a group of much stronger boys cornering him.

"So,  _'Fong'_ , whatcha gunna do? Huh, you faggot?" Evan's breath grew faster as a tall boy with blonde hair and striking green eyes stepped forwards, grabbing his jaw.

"You're probably turned on right now, cornered by a bunch of guys. Well, you know what happens to fags like you?" Evan shook but said nothing until the blonde boy punched him.

"Answer! Go on!" Evan spit blood before answering.

"They-They... I d-don't know..." The blonde boy shoved him to his knees while another tied his wrists behind him with a zip tie.

"You're about to find out, fag." Anther boy had spoken, and then Evan tried phasing into the wall. All the other boys started pulling their pants down, and their underwear followed. To Evan's horror, they all started peeing on him as he fell on his side, squirming. Once they were done, a kid with red hair stepped forwards and stomped on the side of his head, knocking him out.

When Evan regained consciousness, he was in his house, vision blurry, and his mother stood over him, blood on her shirt and hands. 

"Evan? Evan, dear?"

"Mmhh?" Evan was unable to recall his memories, and the next thing he knew, he and the woman that called him her son were moving across the country to a different city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, this chapter focused on Evan. I might do a second one later, but this stuff is just prequel stuff and not entirely necessary to the story, although it adds another layer of... Something to the story.


	2. Brock

Brian was in highschool, the tenth grade, specifically, and went to school with his best friend, Brock. The two of them were sitting on Brain's bed, on their phones, when Brock cleared his throat.

"Yea, Brock?"

"Uh... Never mind, it is way too weird." Brian looked up, grinning, playfully punching Brock in the shoulder. 

"Nothing's too weird for me, buddy!" Brock stared down at his phone, face red.

"Have you ever watched, um..."

"Yes?"

"G-Gay porn?" Brian paused, looking oddly at his friend who was avoiding eye contact.

"U-Uh... Strange, um... Strange question..." Brock finally looked up.

"Well?" Brain looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"I... Y-Yes?" Brock turned even redder.

"Oh..."

"Why'd you ask...?" Brock coughed, sweating a bit.

"Just, um, wondering. By the way, do you have any beer?" Brian sighed with relief, glad to be away from the other topic.

"Yup. My dad's stash is downstairs. Want me to bring some up?" Brock nodded.

A few hours later, and they were both drunk out of their minds, giggling and taking selfies like white girls, when, all of a sudden, Brock pitched playing truth or dare.

"Ugh, fiiiine. But you're... You ashhk me. I can't speaaaak." Brock smiled.

"Would... Would you- YOU. Wouy'ever... Fuck me?" Brian grinned and said yes, blushing. One thing lead to another and soon the two were naked, chests flush against each other. 

"Briiiiii. Brii. D'you have... Have lllluh... Lubeee?" Brian nodded, moving away to grab a bottle from his bedside table, covering his fingers with an ample amount before slowly pushing his index finger inside of Brock, who's back arched as he grabbed hold of Brain's shoulders straddling him. After stretching Brock out as vest he could, Brian slowly added another finger, scissoring them. His fingers brushed against a bundle of nerves that made Brock's vision hazy, and his fingernails dug into Brian's shoulders.

"Fuuuuck... Right... Right there..." Brian nodded and slowly pulled his fingers out, rubbing the excess lube on his straining erection. He lifted Brock up by the hips and carefully let him down, fully seating him then letting him adjust.

"Youu good?" Brock nodded, his untrimmed hair getting in his face as Brian started thrusting in and out of him, every once in a while hitting the bundle of nerves, causing Brock to scream.

It was a few hours later when Brock woke up, head pounding. He saw the scene before him and panicked, cleaning everything up and putting Brian's clothes back on very carefully. He made it look as if nothing had happened, too scared to face the consequences of fucking his best friend. When Brian awoke, Brock found he couldn't remember anything, and was relieved- but strangely disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet *dabs*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> /fknkillmem


	3. Anthony

The small Italian's first own memory was of nearly drowning in blood, the hot, murky liquid staining his pale, dangerously skinny nine year old body. Everything before that was a simple blur.

He could smell nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, see nothing- his senses were overwhelmed by the blood pouring down his throat. 

However, he could  _feel._ The pool of blood was in a room, only one light hanging above, and he could feel the various stray limbs and bones floating about him. They were the bodies of his classmates, turned into somewhat of a human smoothie. He had somehow escaped the jaws of the great blade and played dead. They had been taken hostage by a woman with a gun, lured into what Anthony could only assume was hell. Breathing was difficult when he was face down, floating, not knowing if the woman had left the room. 

He held deadly still as he heard the door open, and rough voices begin speaking. There was movement in the blood, and he felt it. Someone was touching his arm, holding it. Through all the thick, hot blood, the hand was a cool oasis, saving him. He looked up, black hair drenched with blood, and clung to the figure, a kid about fourteen years old, give or take. 

The teenager waded through the blood and climbed up to the floor, handing the boy to a taller figure. Anthony reached for the gentle cool of the teenager, but was denied. He passed out.

The next the Anthony knew, his eyes fluttered open. He was not at home, but was in an unfamiliar room. The whole room was faded, pastel pink, and EVERYTHING was covered in lace. Looking down at himself, Anthony found he was clean, no blood to be seen, but was wearing a tight pink dress that made him look like a doll, white tights, white Mary Jane's, and his black shaggy hair was put into two pigtails. He was looking in a mirror and he turned red, not used to his clothing. 

Anthony turned around at the sound of footsteps and looked up to see a man staring down at him.

"Hello there, Anthony. My name is Walter Montoya, and I will be taking care of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that didn't get the memo, each chapter will be slowly extended, revealing more about each character.


End file.
